


A Gentle Life

by TheReluctantBadger



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Emotional Hurt/Comfort, F/M, Happy Ending, Mentions of Smut, Post-Canon, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-28
Updated: 2020-06-28
Packaged: 2021-03-04 02:08:28
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,925
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24962050
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheReluctantBadger/pseuds/TheReluctantBadger
Summary: With King's Landing burned and broken, Arya and Gendry find that the only life that they can be happy with is one far away from all that they've come to know.
Relationships: Arya Stark/Gendry Waters
Comments: 65
Kudos: 189





	A Gentle Life

**Author's Note:**

> So this idea has been rolling around in my head for a good long while now, so I've been slowly writing it as it comes to me. But now it's as finished as I think it can ever be. It's the favorite ending that I would like to see for our favorite pairing.(Not to discredit everyone else's post-canon endings that they've thought up, they're all amazing in their own ways. this just happens to be my all time favorite.)  
> I very much hope that you enjoy this! 
> 
> There is also small mentions to another fic of mine, Eastwatch. The wonderful Angela/obsessivewriter had a suggestion on a future headcanon for that fic and it fit so wonderfully with this one that I decided to blend them. It isn't necessary to read Eastwatch first, though, but if you come across odd references to past events, then that's where they come from.

Silence met her ears as she walked her horse out of the stables. It was eerie, and it stuck hard into her chest. King's Landing had always been full of noises, even at this hour of the night. But now it sat like a tomb around her, even more assurance that she was correct in her plans.

Even after so many days smoke still hung thick in the air. It made her steps slower than they would have been as she attempted to pick her way down the narrow streets. Her horse occasionally flicked his head behind her. Even he seemed intent on escaping the city. It comforted her a little, knowing that she would be in good company, between her horse and Gendry.

It had been his idea after all, though maybe not in full. The inkling had been prying at the back of Arya's mind ever since the moment that she had buried her dagger in Cersei's chest. But it was Gendry who voiced it, Gendry who gave her the courage to let the idea flourish in her consciousness. And it was the knowledge that Gendry waited in the hazy night with his own horse and bags that carried her steps through.

***

_ She had found him in what was left of the Street of Steel. He never asked how she had come to find him, and she never offered her answer. They had always seemed to find each other with such ease, and that was enough. _

_ Neither was sure how long they stayed huddled in the half crumbled shop. They were surely searching for Arya, and at least a few would be wondering where Gendry had vanished to, but neither cared. Even when the sun sank low and the spirits of the dead seemed to whistle through the toppled stones they stayed pressed to each other's sides. _

_ Gendry managed a small fire in the low hearth, and together they sat. Neither wished to sleep, afraid of what dreams may come of it, so they kept solemn watch together. _

_ It was at one point that Gendry's arm ended up around her shoulders, and Arya leaned heavier into his form. They both smelled of sweat and blood, but it mattered not. They would take each other in whatever state they were, so long as they both lived and breathed. _

_ "We should go away," Gendry stated out of the blue. His voice rumbled against Arya's ear, causing her to turn her head upwards. _

_ "Go where?" _

_ "Anywhere," he shrugged. "Away from here at least." _

_ Realization set in, and Arya gently gripped at his shirt. "And never come back?" _

_ “We could if you wanted it.” His voice sounded surer now. “Far away from here. Just south enough that my joints won’t ache, but towards the north so that you can still see the snow now and then.” _

_ Arya could only smile at the thought, letting herself rest deeper into his side. _

_ “I don't have anything left for me, and I know how you are Arry," The nickname made her grin. "You've always been happiest when you're out there." He gestured in a random direction, but she knew what he meant. "I’ll find us a good home, or I can even build one. We can just be us there, us, and nothing more. I’ll do smithing work for some village, and you can teach our children all of the interesting things that you've learned.” _

_ “Children?” Arya laughed in surprise, causing his arm to hold tighter around her shoulders. “We’re to have children now, are we?” _

_ “Aye,” was his determined reply. _

_ She could only laugh before answering. “Well, shouldn’t we marry first before I start having your babes?” _

_ “Aye,” he laughed as well. _

_ Arya’s smile grew, and she sat up to look better into his face. “So, is this another marriage proposal?” _

_ “Aye,” he whispered with a wide smile, leaning down to softly press his lips to hers. "You won't be a lady, and I won't ask that of you again. Just be with me. Be my family." _

_ She found herself sighing against his lips as his arm moved to pull her into his lap, a knee positioned on either side of his hips. He sighed as well, and wrapped his arms tightly around her waist, as though he feared that she would change her mind. But how could she when she could see that future so clearly in front of her eyes? She would be free forever from the duties that she had always felt were never truly hers. Whatever remained of her life could be spent in peace, and never more would she have to look in death’s unforgiving face. Her life could be her own, and Gendry's. It would be a gentle life. _

_ Arya's hands smoothed over his short hair, coming down to cup his neck and deepen the kisses. Tongues soon joined and the taste of him made her hips melt downward. He was growing hard beneath her. She could have guessed this even without feeling, for now, his hands were pulling at the bottom of her shirt to slide underneath it. Callouses slid up the length of her back and his long fingers pressed into her shoulder blades. _

_ "Alright, I will. And we'll go together." _

***

That had been nearly a moon past. The lords had met and said their piece. Sansa would be Queen in the North, and Jon would be King in the South. Only a few had dared to mention Arya's place in this new game, however, and for that she was thankful. She wanted no part in it.

Halfway through the city, Arya had found herself entirely alone. Many people had left, more were dead, and those who chose to stay were huddled tight in their broken homes. Her thoughts formed into a simple prayer for Jon, that he could somehow turn all of this into something beautiful, something worthwhile. A small sliver of her wished that she could stay and help him. He wouldn't turn her away. She would be welcomed here for as long as she wished to stay. She couldn't, though. That much she was sure of.

Hours seemed to have passed before she made it to the gates. Gendry would be waiting for her just on the other side, as they agreed. 

The guards at the gate gave no attention to her passing. Why should they? She was just a woman now, all heraldry of her house and title left behind in her rooms. Besides, so many were leaving the city during these days, what more was one obscure brown-haired girl and her horse.

Arya smiled when she saw Gendry down the road just a short way, leaning against a post as he attempted to calm his impatient mount.

They spoke nothing at first, only exchanging knowing smiles as they tightened up the saddle straps and pulled themselves onto their horses.

It wasn't until the sun began to break through the darkness to their right that Gendry finally broke out. "Did any of them suspect something?"

Arya shrugged. "Jon may have. Bran knows for sure, but he never spoke of it. Sansa has been too busy with her own plans to take note."

Gendry nodded but spent several moments in silence before breathing out heavily. "Davos will be disappointed. He wouldn't stop talking about how good it would be for me in the Stormlands."

"Are you going to have regrets from this?" Arya asked, fixing her eyes to the road ahead. "You could be a good lord. It doesn't have to be on my account tha-"

"I want this," Gendry cut her off. He urged his horse closer until he could reach over and thread his fingers through her hair. "just as much as you do. From now on we're staying together."

Arya nodded with a smile and turned her head to kiss his wrist.

*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*

No one seemed to be looking for them; and if they were, then it was only a half-hearted attempt. After a week or so, they began to hear rumors from other travelers. Apparently the youngest Stark girl had gone missing, slipped off into the night like the silent killer she was. Some of them were sure that she had sailed off on some ship bound for foreign shores and had taken the new Baratheon lord along as a bed warmer, while others insisted that the real Arya Stark had been dead for ages and that the girl who killed the Night King and Cersei was only a form taken on by The Stranger to complete some great work. Arya and Gendry always listened and nodded along, and the first time that Gendry had dared to call Arya "The Stranger" when they were alone she had kicked his knee before chasing him around the campsite.

It was yet another week before they allowed themselves the comfort of staying in an inn, and for the first time since they rode out from King's Landing's gates, they stripped bare and lay together. The two lay facing each other when he entered her. Slow and gentle were their rolls into each other's comforting forms, and the two took turns swallowing the other's moans and gasps as deeper promises were made than ever before.

It was seldom, however, that their nights were so intimate and pleasurable. More often than not one or both of them would suffer horrible dreams that made them wake drenched in sweat and despair. For Arya, it was dreams of faces in the dark; faces with no eyes and babbling mouths. They would torment her mercilessly by speaking of horrors that made her cry out in anguish, and no matter where she hid they never failed to follow. For Gendry, it was always the wights. Sometimes they would appear in the woods around them, while he lay pinned on his back with no strength to move and wake Arya at his side. Other times, he was back beyond the wall and running through an endless maze of ice while the unearthly growls and shrieks closed in on him from behind. 

But with the waking always came comfort from the other. They both understood without words and would move closer together to offer whatever they could as a distraction. When morning came after those nights, they would pack up their things with knowing looks and do their best to keep each other awake as they continued on their way.

*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*

"How much for the tools?" Arya asked the shopkeeper.

He looked up from where he had been counting out the coins she had handed him, payment for the bread, cheese, and ale she had purchased. But I wasn't until she had fished out her coin purse that she had noticed the blacksmith's tools that hung proudly on the wall behind the man. "What're ya willin' tuh pay?" he asked with a cock of the head.

Arya thought for a moment, but no longer before she peeled back her cloak and removed the thick leather belt from around her waist...along with the gold plated dagger that hung from it. Some lord had given it to her as thanks for her deeds, but she would never use it; not now at least, so it was no great loss.

Soon she was walking proudly out of the shop, the sack of food slung over one shoulder while the other arm carried the tools wrapped in canvas. They were heavy, and she cursed Gendry for being strong enough to make them look so light, so it was slow walking as she shuffled through the small village.

When she finally found Gendry, however, it was for both of them to look at each other in utter confusion.

"What's in the wrap?" Gendry asked with narrowed eyes.

"Where's my horse?" Arya asked in the same beat, jerking her chin towards Gendry's lone mount tied to the post.

"Traded him," he smirked. "For that."

Gendry nodded over to a nearby carpentry shop. Beside the small building sat a simple wooden cart, open on the top with a narrow bench seat for driving. 

"And why did it have to be my horse that got traded?" Arya tried her best to pretend to be upset, but her smile at Gendry's rare bout of cleverness was hard to mask.

"Because mine is the stronger of the two." he shot back smartly. "Now tell me, milady, why is your breeches sagging, and does it have anything to do with that heavy thing?"

"Traded it," she replied simply, shooting his own words back at him. "For these." She shoved the wrap into his arms.

Gendry gave her an examining look before pulling back the canvas enough to look inside. "Arya," he gasped. "you-"

"There," she cut him off. "Now you can make enough coin to buy me a new belt and steel."

Before he could reply, she leaned up to kiss his jaw and patted his shoulder, leaving him where he stood to go and inspect their new cart.

The trend continued much the same afterward; Gendry's embroidered doublet and fur-lined gloves were traded for a small plow and Arya's for a fine assortment of seeds and some bags of wheat. By the time they passed through the Riverlands nearly all of their finery had been replaced with various tools, fabrics, and anything else that they may need for their new life.

The air grew sharper as they moved through The Neck. Cool days gave way to colder mists, and rain followed them as they passed with the mountains to their right and the marshes to their left. Arya expected the changes, but Gendry was beginning to find waking up in the mornings harder than before. He spent most of the day with his hands tucked tightly under a blanket as he drove the wagon, and at night he would almost always curl in on himself under the furs that had been bought with the last of their coin.

They slept in the wagon more often than not during that stretch, pulled off of the road or path, and usually under some trees for shelter. It was on one of those nights that they found themselves pressed against one another tightly. Under the furs, their breaths mingled together and made the air around them hot and drowsy. Each one's lips caressed the other's while tired hands found their way underneath the shirts to feel soft skin wherever it could be found. Their trousers had long since been stripped away. Gendry made a contented sigh when Arya slid her small hand over the crest of his hip bone and cupped at his ass. This caused her to grin, and she used the leverage to softly roll their hips together.

"You know what we should do?" he whispered, lips sliding across her cheek to find the curve of her jaw. "We should look for a septon in the next village. Be married officially."

"But we are." 

"No, we're not."

"Says who?"

Gendry pulled back to laugh. Looking down, though, he found that Arya was taking in his face with that odd expression of hers. He opened his mouth to reply, but she beat him to it.

"Who's to say that you aren't my husband already and that we've been married for over a year now?" Again, before he could answer her question, she was pushing him over into his back to nuzzle her face against the tender skin of his neck. "You're the son of some hunter, and I'm the daughter of a stonemason. Our families died in the wars and we found each other in King's Landing."

Gendry found himself in no position to argue as she began to suck on the skin below his ear. Instead, he offered his own addition. "Our home was burned there, so we're moving to the North where your family is from. I made my living as a smith and you traveled through Braavos with a merchant, so you know a fuck lot more than me.”

Arya breathed a laugh against his neck, obviously pleased with the tale. It took nothing for her to drape herself over him, and with a shifting of the hips, he was inside of her. "I am yours, and you are mine," she whispered.

"I am yours, and you are mine," he repeated back, eyes closing to gentle darkness as he began to move with her.

*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*

It was a mumbling farmer who first told them of the place and a very eager goat herdsman who pointed them in a more accurate direction. Finally, nearly two weeks after crossing through into the North, they located the abandoned farmhouse.

From what they could make of it, the family who had owned it had followed Robb into the war. When none of the members had returned to reclaim it, it was left for the owls and foxes. It sat a week's journey south of Barrowton and only a day's ride to the sea. Upon driving the wagon up to its front, Gendry frowned at the deep away in the sender of the sodded roof. Arya herself could see many hours being poured into maintenance on the small barn that sat in the rear.

It was perfect for them though, and that night they slept soundly in their very own bed, snug and safe under their furs and blankets.

It took Gendry very little time to set up a makeshift forge in the back corner of the barn, but once word spread around of his trade he was soon able to afford better equipment, not to mention several chickens and a pair of cows.

Arya herself found that settling into this life was quite easy. The house was mended and cleaned, and a couple of kittens from the next farm over kept the mice out. It was a space that she could run as she saw fit, and Gendry was only too happy to let her do it.

Winter raised up, and the snows came. The house was warm and solid around them, but Arya and Gendry still took the chances to remain woven together in their warm bed. Arya found it not hard at all to forget about the rest of the world during those times with him. They may as well have lived the same stories that they told of their past, were it not for the long red scar across Gendry's chest and the smaller pale ones on Arya's stomach. They would always remain themselves, but now they could have their own future. And that future continued on in the thawing spring when Arya's stomach began to swell with child.

The moons turned and the couple prepared. Gendry had, at the first, been set on building a crib himself. But after several ruined boards being thrown angrily into his forge, he scowled and kicked his way into the wagon, driving it the day's journey into the village to purchase one from the carpenter.

The labor was long and the birth was painful, but Arya pressed through until the midwife handed her the angry newborn; angry because the baby girl never cried, never screamed, only squinted her bright eyes and grunted harshly at everything, causing Arya to laugh through the tears and proclaim that she had Gendry's temper.

Gendry had nothing but love for his daughter, though, and Arya swore that she had never seen him so gentle as when he held Gilda close and let her wrap her hands around his fingers.

"You don't deserve this shack," she once caught him whispering to the babe as he walked her to sleep by the fire. "You deserve a palace of shining marble, and I would craft you a golden crown as beautiful as you are."

*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*

The groan and subsequent exhale of air told Arya that Gendry had settled himself into his chair by the fire, and the "oof" then told her that one of the children had scrambled into his lap.

"Da," Bairn's small voice spoke. "What's this?"

When Arya turned her head, it was to see the boy tracing his finger across the long scar that ran down Gendry's chest.

"Well, you see," Gendry began softly, his own hand coming up to smooth his son's head. "A long time ago your Ma and I had to leave each other, and it hurt so terribly that my heart split wide open."

Arya's hands had since stilled from their scrubbing, tears stinging at her eyes as she watched the scene unfold. Gilda's attention had been captured as well and she was by her father's side in a moment. She had always been so drawn to stories of love and beauty, so much like her aunt had been.

"Then what happened?" Bairn asked, pressing his face to Gendry's warm skin. Even from across the house Arya could see the sleep beginning to take over his eyes. 

"Did you cry?" Gilda added in.

"Nooo! Da doesn't cry!" Bairn insisted fervently.

Gendry threw his head back in a surprised laugh. "I did too cry! Cried so hard that I thought my eyes would dry out. But then your Ma found me again, and she sewed my heart back up tight." His arms squeezed tightly around Bairn to emphasize the point. "So then I asked her to stay with me always so that my heart would never break open again."

Gilda gave a happy sigh and scrambled up into Gendry's other leg, laying herself on him the same way that Bairn was. "Does it hurt you?" she asked softly, which then became a shrieking laugh when Gendry tickled her face with his stubbled beard.

"No, sweetness," he then whispered into the top of her head. "Because your Ma kisses it every night, to chase away the hurt."

When he cut his eyes up to Arya, she whipped back around quickly and resumed scrubbing the pot even harder, hoping that he hadn't noticed the tears on her cheeks.

By the time the kitchen was back in order, Gendry was packing two sleeping children to their beds. Arya had never seen him show any but gentleness to them, and bedtime was no exception. They were placed on the mattresses as though they were precious jewels, with blankets tucked around to ensure that they would never shatter. 

She waited until he had returned to his chair before she removed her apron, hanging it on its peg and moving towards the fireplace. Gendry watched and waited, moving his arms aside as she settled herself in his lap. Their children had their father during the day, but during the night was when she had her husband.

His arms closed in around Arya and pulled her into his soft warmth. Lips connected in a kiss that held much more passion than it appeared, and she sighed into the peace that it brought her. Then, after pulling back to look into his fire-lit eyes, she dropped her head to his chest and began a line of gentle kisses along his scar.

Outside their walls, the snow began to layer. The chickens tucked themselves down in the straw, and the cows puffed out white fog from their nostrils as they stood close together in their stall. Gendry's forge was already beginning to turn to weak embers, the iron of his tools becoming as cold as the ice that dripped from the roof of the house. 

But inside…

Inside that house, there was love; warm gentle love. And it would know only that until their days were finished and their names long forgotten.

  
  



End file.
